Game Time
by Tellu
Summary: Oh. My. God. I can't believe it's been two years since Emrys-chan started up Troublemakers and All Things Naughty. O.O This is my anniversery gift to TAATN. Basically, Tellu is wondering 'How do those people on game shows do it?' To find out, read!


GAME TIME by Tellu a:link{text-decoration : none} a:visited {text-decoration : none} a:active {text-decoration : none} a:hover { pont-weight: none ; text-decoration:underline; color black } 

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Game Time  
by [Tellu][1]   
  
  
The other morning, I watched five game shows in a row on television. I wanted to turn them off, but I was too mesmerized by the contestants. The first one was a frail woman who said, "I am a simple, ordinary housewife," and proceded to win a new microwave by correctly whistling Bangladesh High's fight song.  
The second contestant was a self-described mother of seven who spewed out the Russian formula for fuel, thus winning an all expenses paid trip for eight to scenic Pago Pago.  
By the time the third contestant came up, I was sweating bullets. She was also a 'typical, suburban homemaker' who won a year's supply of tulip bulbs for stating that the Sixth Crusade of Europe was led by Frederick II in 1228. (I thought that it was Billy Graham in 1965.)  
After I turned off the TV set, I sat there stunned for a minute. Not only could I not remember what I'd had for breakfast a mere three hours ago, but I realized that mentally I had let myself go to pot.  
When Mimete, Kaolinite, Eudial and I sat down for a game of poker, I decided to broach the subject.  
"How do you suppose those people on game shows do it?" I asked them.  
"They fake it," replied Mimete. "Anyone can go on an intellectual crash program and change their image in five days."  
"I don't know, Mimete," I said, "I still can't figure out how that housewife knew about Frederick II in 1228."  
"A lucky guess," Eudial scoffed.  
"There's one game show that the professor and I went on once," Kaolinite mused. "It was called 'Break Up A Marriage.' We weren't actually married, of course, but we were able to fake it pretty well. The divorce is still pending."  
We all stopped and looked at Kaolinite, who coughed, rearranged her cards, and turned a becoming shade of red.  
Despite what Eudial, Mimete and Kaolinite said, I still have nothing but admiration for those men and women who compete on game shows. Every week the games seem to get more involved, the prizes more fabulous, and the contestants more panicked.  
I have seen these poor housewife-contestants run the emotional yo-yo from hysterical to rabid. I watched a new show called 'CORONARY' last week that was relatively simple to follow.  
A contestant was asked to select a numbered balloon. When she popped it, a little card floated out, telling her what she won. It went something like this.  
"Hang on, Bernice!" said the announcer. "Do you know what you have just won?" Bernice shakes her head numbly. "You have just won 125,000 dollars!"  
As the band plays, 'Happy Days Are Here Again' and Bernice jumps into the announcer's arms and starts screaming with joy, he holds up his hands for quiet.  
"In Italian lira, Bernice. That's about, oh, 48.25. Too bad, Bernice, but wait! You can pick up the lira in an Italian bank. YOU'VE WON THREE WEEKS IN ROME!"  
As Bernice clutches her chest and sways dizzily, the band starts up again. She grabs the announcer's sleeve.  
"That's Rome, New York," he grins.  
Bernice slumps again, emotionally drained.  
"But wait! Look what you'll be WEARING to New York!" The curtain opens to reveal a $4,000 mink coat. Bernice manages a weak smile as the announcer slides it on her.  
"Unfortunately, it's not in your size. Too bad, Bernice. If it HAD been in your size, you would have walked out of the studio in a $4,000 mink coat with a Swiss bank account for $100,000 dollars in your pocket."  
Bernice faints dead away on the floor. The announcer bends over her. "You didn't stay concious, Bernice. Those are the rules, but since you've been such a sport, no one goes away empty-handed. For your consolation prize, we have here a personalized pacemaker. Let's hear it for Bernice!"  
Remember, game shows can hurt you. Be a pro!  
What a shame. It's too late for Bernice.  
  
  
Authors notes: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, EMRYS! For everyone else, if you liked it, e-mail me and I will shower you with gratitude. Anyone else, keep your damn comments to yourself!  
  


   [1]: mailto:Datatape@aol.com



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